


The World Enough and Pi(e)

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Getting Back Up Again [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Merlin (TV), Sherlock (TV), Spooks | MI-5, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 14:57:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: After a long day serving king and country, Lucas just wants to see his boyfriend and have some cake, but it's Pi Day, and Evan's bakery is popular.





	The World Enough and Pi(e)

**Author's Note:**

> The crossovers really aren't that stealthy.
> 
> Written for the [story_works](https://story-works.dreamwidth.org/) Pi Day flash challenge.
> 
> Thanks to [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier) and [SherlockianSyndromes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes) for helping me out with a series title, which is from the lyrics to the Ryan Star 'Brand New Day'.

Another day, another apocalyptic terrorist plot foiled, and Lucas wanted nothing more than - Evan. Sleep, cake, and Evan. Not necessarily in that order. He rounded the corner toward Evan’s bakery and came up short before he crashed into a man’s back.

Lucas assessed his surroundings quickly - dammit, exhaustion had affected his performance - and realized there was a queue formed on the pavement. If he wasn’t mistaken, that queue started at the door to Evan’s bakery and stretched down the pavement to where Lucas was standing right now.

Evan’s bakery had always done a brisk business, as far as Lucas knew, given that it had survived as long as it had in this location, but as Lucas always showed up at the end of the business day, he was used to having the place - and Evan - to himself. Lucas’s first instinct was to fish in his pocket for his mobile to call Evan and see if he was busy, but if the bakery was this busy, no way would Evan be able to answer.

Lucas had been standing there long enough that a woman tapped him on the shoulder.

“Are you in the queue for the bakery, luv?”

Lucas started, turned. Technically he was, but - “No, madam. Please excuse me.”

He stepped out of the line, and she scooted forward into his place eagerly, clutching her pocketbook in her hands.

Lucas walked along the pavement, avoiding the people in the queue. The door of the bakery was propped open by the pavement chalkboard sign Evan used to advertise the day’s specials, but those were smudged from the light drizzle that had accompanied Lucas all the way from the Grid.

“Pardon me,” Lucas said, injecting some _government agent_ authority into his voice, and people shuffled aside to let him up the steps into the shop proper, which was crowded. The two tables and four chairs had been stacked in the corner and someone had arranged some velvet ropes so a queue snaked back and forth on the shop floor.

Lavender and Parvati were behind the counter, Parvati working the salespoint while Lavender dashed back and forth, boxing up slices of - pie.

Pies and pies and pies were on display in the glass case: pumpkin, coconut, buko (baby coconut), lemon meringue, key lime, cherry, apple, blueberry, strawberry, strawberry rhubarb, pecan, bumbleberry, banana cream, and chocolate cream with Oreo crust. Also steak and kidney pie, chicken and mushroom pie, steak and mushroom pies, mince pies, and a whole other host of savory pies.

Lucas’s mouth watered even though there was no sign of cake.

And then Evan emerged from the back, carrying a tray of yet more pies.

Lucas edged around the velvet ropes, ignoring the irritated looks the other customers cast him, and made it up to the counter.

“Evan.”

Evan lay the pies on the back counter to cool. “Lucas! Good evening.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Pie Day.” Evan glanced over his shoulder, cast him a brief, tense smile.

“Pie Day,” Lucas echoed, confused.

“Yeah, you know, _pi,_ the mathematical constant.”

Lucas understood the pun. “Right. Why is today Pie Day? Is it some sort of...national day?”

“You know, the date. March Fourteenth, like three-point-one-four.”

It took Lucas a moment to understand. “That’s not how we write dates here.”

“I know, but - apparently it caught on,” Evan said. “Pi Day.”

Lucas glanced over his shoulder at the queue still extending out the door. “Indeed it has caught on.”

“So we’re having a special on pies.” Evan smiled at him again, brighter this time. “Anything you fancy?”

“Not right this second,” Lucas said, because his preference was for cake. “There are so many choices. D’you need a hand?”

Evan’s expression turned hesitant, but then Lavender said,

“Thank Merlin, Lucas, you’re here, put an apron on and help us.”

“Lavender,” Evan began, tone sharp, but Lucas nodded.

Lavender handed him an apron across the counter. As far as she and Parvati knew, he was just an accountant. Lucas accepted the apron, tied it on, and then skirted around the queue to the other side so he could get behind the counter and go into the back, wash his hands.

He was just drying his hands when Evan appeared at his side.

“Lucas, you really don’t have to,” Evan began, but Lucas leaned in, silenced him with a kiss.

“I know I don’t have to, but I know you, you’ve been running yourself off your feet all day, giving the girls breaks without taking any yourself.”

“And you’ve been out saving the world,” Evan said softly.

“Saving it for you.” Lucas kissed him again, then headed out to the front.

Lavender was boxing up an entire banana cream pie, nodding at something a customer was saying to her, so Lucas went to stand beside Parvati and wait for the next order.

Two men - one tall, dark-haired, handsome, with a hint of tattoos peeking out of his sleeves; the other shorter, with golden blond hair, wearing a button-down shirt and a tie; both of them _screamed_ law enforcement; the first likely had military training as well - stood at the front of the line.

“We’ll take a coconut cream pie,” the taller man said.

The shorter man uncrossed his arms and straightened up. “What? No! We should get - get something traditionally English. Like...steak-and-kidney - er. No. Maybe - rhubarb pie. That’s very English.”

The taller man said, “What would you know about being English?”

“My last name is Williams. It’s very English. Right?” The shorter man looked to Parvati for confirmation.

“Sure,” she said slowly.

The shorter man continued, “We did not come all the way to England from _Hawaii_ so you could get coconut cream pie. We get coconut- and pineapple-flavored _everything_ back home. So, ah, Parvati.” He pronounced her name properly, which was impressive. “What do you recommend that’s traditionally English?”

“Bilberry pie, Eccles cake - they call it cake but it’s technically a pie, or so Evan says. Treacle tart - we’re counting tarts as pies today. Bakewell tart. Yorkshire curd tart.”

“What’s your favorite?” the shorter man asked.

“Out of those, bakewell tart,” Parvati said.

“What’s in that?”

“Danny,” the taller man hissed, “you’re holding up the line. Let’s get the coconut cream and go.”

“Raspberry and almonds,” Parvati said.

“That sounds adventurous. Bakewell tart. Two slices,” Danny said.

“Hey, I’m buying,” the taller man protested, wallet in hand.

“I love you, Steve,” Danny said, “but shut up.” He pushed his own business card across the counter to Parvati.

“Bakewell tart?” Lucas asked, just to be sure.

Danny nodded. Steve fixed Lucas with a narrow-eyed look, but Lucas turned away and went to find the appropriate tart. Evan had every single display labeled from the back so Lucas didn’t have to try to identify all the different items by sight.

Much to Lucas’s relief, all of the pies were pre-sliced. Evan was slicing pies that had already cooled, then setting them in the display case. He had an expert, steady hand with a knife, and all the pies were in perfectly even slices. Lucas pulled on a pair of flimsy plastic gloves, used a plastic pie server to maneuver two slices into a little cardboard box lined with a paper doily (Evan folded up the box for him), and then he closed the box, wrapped it with twine, set the box in a bag.

Steve and Danny had drifted along the counter to where Lucas was working. They were still bickering about Danny’s choice of pie - _you always drive my car, you always pick where we eat, it’s my turn for once, I was decisive -_ when Lucas pushed the bag across the counter.

“Enjoy,” he said.

Danny smiled at him. “Thank you. See? People in England are polite, unlike you. You’re an animal.”

Lucas was alarmed at the insult, but Steve took it in stride.

“Fine. Let’s go back to the hotel and eat your English pie.” Steve grabbed the bag before Danny could get a grip on it, turned and headed for the door.

“It’s Pi Day. We have to eat some pie.”

“I heard you the first dozen times.”

“You know you love me. And pie.”

“Yeah, I do. Stop gloating. C’mon.”

And they vanished down the street, still bickering cheerfully.

Lavender was already on to the next order, and Evan was still slicing pies. Lucas went to stand beside Parvati, ready to assist.

Four people stood at the counter: a young man with messy dark hair and specs, a tall man with red hair, a redheaded woman who looked like she was his sister, and a brown-haired woman.

They were looking awkwardly at Parvati, who was smiling weakly at them.

“We had no idea you worked here,” the redheaded woman said.

“It’s just to make ends meet, till my other business gets going,” Parvati said. “And - it’s good experience. I enjoy baking. We never learned much of it at Hog - school. Evan’s a really nice boss.”

Lucas noted the way she edited herself but said nothing.

“It’s nice,” the brown-haired woman said. “That you and Lavender can work together.”

The black-haired man said, under his breath, _Won-won,_ which made no sense, but the redheaded man blushed.

He cleared his throat. “What would you like, Hermione?”

“Strawberry rhubarb, please. One slice,” the brown-haired woman said. “Ronald?”

“Er, the treacle tart,” the redheaded man said. “Please.” To the redheaded woman, he said, “Don’t tell Mum, Gin.”

The redheaded woman lifted her chin. “We’re all working professionals and we can afford the occasional treat, if we so choose. Best to do it here, where no one recognizes us.” She smiled brightly at Parvati. “Treacle tart for me as well, please. Harry?”

“Chocolate cream with Oreo crust, please,” the black-haired man said promptly.

Parvati rang them up. “Did you get that all?” she asked without looking at Lucas.

He nodded. “If you’ll step this way, I’ll box those up for you. Two and two?”

“Yes, please,” Hermione said.

The four of them drifted along the counter opposite Lucas.

Lavender crossed behind him, paused. “Harry? Hermione? Ginny? _Ron?”_

“Hello, Lavender,” the redheaded man said in a small voice, waving.

Hermione nudged him sharply. “Hello, Lavender. We didn’t know you worked here. We’ve just - heard good things about the bakery.”

“Evan is a wonderful baker,” Lavender gushed.

Lucas boxed up all the slices individually, separated them into two bags, one for each couple.

“He’s like magic,” Lavender continued.

Hermione’s eyebrows went up.

 _“Like_ magic,” Lavender amended hastily. “He’s not - I mean -”

“Your desserts,” Lucas said, nudging the bags across the counter. “Happy Pi Day.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said, accepting one bag. She handed the other one to her brother. “It was lovely seeing you, Lavender.” She waved, and then she hustled her friends and family out the door.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Lavender wilted against the back counter.

“That was terribly awkward.”

“Old flame?” Lucas asked.

“In school,” Lavender muttered. Then she straightened up. “Anyway! Next up?” She went to help Parvati.

Evan had finished slicing up the pies and putting them in the display case and turned to assembling boxes instead.

Lavender bustled past him, talking to a woman with pink hair and a slender man with blond hair, smiling and making small talk as she went to box up a couple of slices of apple pie.

The next customers in line were also two men, one tall and slender, with dark curly hair and pointy features, the other a little shorter, with dark blond hair. It was an evening for chiaroscuro, then.

“John?”

“Sherlock?”

“What are you having?”

“I’m thinking, Sherlock.”

“Think faster, John.”

“Most of us think slower than you, Sherlock.”

“You think faster than most people, John.”

“Stop saying my name, Sherlock.”

“Let’s skip ten minutes of John dithering,” Sherlock said to Parvati, who’d been looking back and forth between them like it was a tennis match at Wimbledon. We’ll take a steak and mushroom pie for our supper and one slice of key lime, one slice of strawberry rhubarb for dessert.”

John turned to Sherlock sharply. “Strawberry rhubarb? For you? But that’s so -”

“Delicious, thank you.” Sherlock smiled tightly at Parvati, then swept toward the other end of the counter, leaving John to pay.

Lucas went to box up their order, passing Lavender going the opposite direction. Evan was nowhere to be seen.

“MI-5,” Sherlock said, just as Lucas was easing the steak and mushroom pie into a box.

“Pardon?”

“You’re with MI-5,” Sherlock said.

Lucas tensed. “What makes you say that?”

“I can see from the amount of dampness at your collar beneath your apron how long you were in the rain. Only so many government buildings within that radius, assuming a fairly leisurely pace despite the light drizzle and your average stride length given your height. Also you’re carrying not one but two concealed firearms, too much for Metro police. You’re too fit to be a mere data analyst or other sedentary office worker.”

“I could work out.”

“But you are aware of everyone and everything in this room, know all the entrances and exits, which is highly atypical of a data analyst. Also, the firearms I mentioned. You’re assessing me right now, and you assessed John as well, took him for a military man, just as I took your Evan for a military man.”

“My Evan?” Lucas asked.

“The way he looks at you, the way you’re comfortable with him in your personal space.” Sherlock waved a dismissive hand. “A blind man could see you’re mad for each other. Well, not a blind man, just someone as observant as me.”

“You are very observant,” Lucas said. He finished boxing up the desserts, bagged everything, slid the bag across the counter just as John arrived.

John flashed Lucas a brief smile. “Thank you.” Then he paused, frowned. “Is he analyzing you again? Sherlock, what have I said about doing that to complete strangers? I’m so sorry. He’s a sociopath. A high-functioning one, but sociopathic all the same, indulges in his whims constantly -”

“I was just making some observations,” Sherlock protested, but when John curled a hand around his wrist, he let John tow him to the door.

“You all right?” Evan paused behind Lucas with another tray, this one of little mince pies. He put a hand on Lucas’s shoulder.

“Fine,” Lucas said, though he was still unnerved. What _else_ had Sherlock seen in him?

Evan squeezed his shoulder briefly, then moved on.

For the rest of the evening, well past closing, Lucas and Lavender dashed back and forth, boxing up pies. Evan brought out the last of the pies an hour before the shop’s official closing time, but by the time they saw to all of the customers, every last crumb was gone.

Evan sent Parvati and Lavender home.

“We’ve got this,” he said, gesturing to himself and Lucas.

“Are you sure?” But Lavender was already reaching for her jacket, scarf, and umbrella.

“We’re sure,” Lucas said, because as tired as he was, he wanted Evan to himself before the man fell asleep, which he was liable to do at any moment. He had fallen asleep on his feet before.

“All right. Good night, Evan.” Parvati waved, and then she and Lavender left the shop, hand-in-hand.

Evan brought the sign in off the pavement, locked the door after them.

Lucas knew the closing routine well enough. Evan turned on the radio while they worked. Lucas set to wiping down the counters and cases while Evan swept. Then they’d tackle the kitchen together.

“You know,” Lucas said, “were England to celebrate Pi Day based on the calendar, it couldn’t really happen, could it? Because there’s no April 31st.”

Evan considered. “True. I just went for today, because -” He gestured to the folded American flag that hung low on the wall behind the counter. From his father’s funeral. His father had served in Vietnam.

“Seems to have served you well,” Lucas said. “Those were generous discounts on the pies. Was it worth it in the end?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, when I’ve tallied the money and the overtime paid to the girls and I’m still exhausted.” Evan leaned on his broom, yawned. “Thank you for helping. We’d have gone under without you.”

“I expect payment in pie,” Lucas said.

Evan started to nod, then blinked. “We are totally out of pie. Didn’t get to have even a bit.”

“That’s all right. I happen to know an excellent baker.”

In the background, the deejay said, _And now, in honor of Pi Day, Circle of Love, by the Steve Miller Band._

Lucas set down his washrag, hopped over the counter, crossed the shop. He plucked the broom out of Evan’s hands and tugged him in close.

“What? Oh.” Evan let himself be drawn into the circle of Lucas’s arms, rested his head on Lucas’s shoulder while they swayed slowly to the music.

“Would you do me the honor?” Lucas asked softly.

“I’m already dancing with you, but - yes. Every time.” Evan tilted his head up, pressed a kiss to the corner of Lucas’s mouth. “Thanks for saving the world today.”

“My world is you.” Lucas leaned in, kissed Evan more fully, holding him tighter.

Then there was a rap on the glass.

They sprung apart, startled, Evan reaching for the broom to use as a weapon, Lucas going for his gun.

Two drenched men stood on the step, both in dark hoodies with the hoods drawn up.

The first man drew his hood back. He was young, early twenties, had dark, dark hair that half-hid his otherwise protuberant ears, high cheekbones, and very blue eyes. Something about him was familiar, but Lucas couldn’t quite place him.

“Look, we know it’s late,” the lad said, “but d’you have any pie left?”

Lucas frowned and stepped in front of Evan, ready with a sharp word, but then the second lad drew his hood back, and he was -

Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Wales.

His golden hair was dark with the rain, and he was shivering.

Lucas straightened up instinctively, stepped toward the window to scan the street for paparazzi, but there was none.

Evan unlocked the door, ushered them in. “I’ve sold all our pies, but - we haven’t eaten either. I could probably set something to baking while we close the rest of the kitchen.”

“Thank you,” Prince Arthur said, unfailingly polite. He was pale, nervous, but had high color in his cheeks, either from the cold or from the fact that he knew he was being terribly gauche, demanding food in a place of business that was obviously already closed for the night.

The other young man - the Prince’s valet, the unfortunately-named Merlin - nodded. “That sounds lovely. We - went to great lengths to escape some photographers.” He pushed the sleeves of his hoodie up. “We don’t mean to put you out. We can help you clean. Right, Arthur?”

The lack of a title from servant to lord was startling, but Prince Arthur nodded.

“Of course.”

“Excellent.” Lucas directed both of them into the back to start washing dishes so they weren’t in plain view at the shop front window, and then he took over sweeping.

Evan headed into the back to wash his hands and start on a meat pie and a dessert pie.

Once Lucas was finished sweeping, he returned to wiping down the front counters and display cases, and then he headed into the back to scrub down the kitchen counters.

Prince Arthur and Merlin were elbow-to-elbow at one of the sinks, Merlin washing while Prince Arthur dried, their heads bent close together.

Evan stared at them, a little dazed. “Is that really -?”

“You mean you let them into the shop without believing they were -?”

“I mean, it _looks_ like them.”

“It _is_ them.”

Merlin said something that earned him an elbow in the ribs. He nudged Prince Arthur right back. A nudging war ensued, which devolved into a shoving war, which turned into Prince Arthur reeling Merlin in for a wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek that had Merlin yelping indignantly and backpedalling, wiping his cheek with his shoulder because his hands were still wet.

Prince Arthur caught Evan and Lucas looking, and he went pale. Evan reached out, curled his hand through Lucas’s, squeezed, and Prince Arthur smiled sadly. Then he turned to Merlin and rolled his eyes, accepted a damp dish.

“Why thank you, _Mer-_ lin, I do in fact know how to do dishes. Apparently you missed that lesson in valet school - you have to rinse the soap suds _off_ first, lest everything served on it taste like soap later. D’you want supper to taste like soap?”

Evan put both pies in the oven, leaned against the counter with a heavy, tired sigh. Lucas pressed in beside him, sharing his warmth.

“Happy Pi Day,” Evan said.

“To you as well.”

Evan smiled up at him, all bright blue eyes and dimples, and Lucas couldn’t help it - he leaned in and kissed him.

“Love you,” Lucas whispered.

Evan drew him in for a long, slow, lingering kiss. “Love you too.”


End file.
